Page 62 of Never Too Late

“It’s something,” I said.

Laurent cleared his throat. “I’m glad you’re not dead too, Cillian.” He looked to me again. “See! We can get along for your sake.”

If that was getting along, there was an awful lot of work to be done before I could leave them in a room together.

“I need a few minutes alone with your boyfriend,” Laurent said to me, as if reading my mind.

“I don’t think…”

Cillian leaned over and kissed my cheek. “We’ll be fine. I have many faults, but—”

“You do indeed,” Laurent half coughed, half said.

“I have many faults,” Cillian repeated with a steely glare Laurent’s way, “but attacking a man in a hospital bed is not one of them.” He flicked a hand Laurent’s way. “And he couldn’t attack me even if he wanted to. He’s as weak as a kitten.”

“Kittens still have claws,” Laurent pointed out. “It pays to remember that.” He lifted his gaze my way. “You’re still here. Shoo.”

“Shoo! I know you didn’t just say that.”

“Please shoo?”

“Better,” I grumbled. When I still didn’t move, both men stared at me. “Fine,” I said, throwing up my hands in a gesture of defeat. “Have at it.” I backed off a couple of steps. “Just… don’t make things worse. Either of you.”

I regretted my decision as soon as I was out in the corridor, pacing doing nothing to improve my disposition. I comforted myself with the knowledge that raised voices would carry, and as yet, there were none. An agonizingly slow five minutes passed with no sign of Cillian. Another two crawled by before he finally appeared. “He wants to sleep,” he said, “so he said he’ll see you tomorrow.”

I peeked into the room to find that Laurent had slid down in the bed and closed his eyes. Leaving him to it, the end of visiting hours rapidly approaching anyway because of our late arrival, I caught up with Cillian and fell into step beside him. “Well?” I questioned when he said nothing. “Are you going to tell me what the two of you talked about?”

“I think he mostly made threats of what would happen if I don’t treat you the way you deserve to be treated.”

“He either did or he didn’t.”

Cillian’s brow furrowed. “He slipped into French halfway through, so it became difficult to keep up with him. There was definitely something about my balls and a vise. Unless, it was his balls, and then I’d be far happier never knowing what was said.”

“He’s a good friend,” I said. “I’m lucky to have him in my life.”

“It’s actually quite nice,” Cillian admitted, “to know that someone is lurking in the background, ready to tell me if I screwup.” He laced his fingers with mine. “But… if you tell him I said that, I’ll deny it.”

I smiled, but said nothing.

Sweat still dried on my skin as Cillian turned on his side so our faces were close together on the pillow. “You still haven’t told me what you think of my plan.”

I settled myself more comfortably. “Which part?”

“Me moving to Paris?”

I tamped down on the flicker of excitement that made me want to grab him and initiate the next round of sex, despite only minutes having passed and neither of us being physically capable of that quick a turnaround, and concentrated on the practicalities rather than the emotion. “Do you really think you can make it work? What about your family? What about Amrita? Have you spoken to them?”

“Of course I have. My family wants whatever makes me happy. Although, they’re a little confused why I’m moving countries to be with someone they’ve never even met.”

I let out a huff of laughter. “I bet they are. Me and them both. My family will want to meet you, too.”

“We should have a big family get together,” Cillian proposed. “Get it all over with in one fell swoop. We could book them all into a hotel here.”

“My family would like that,” I said. “They keep talking about coming to see me.”

“And as for Amrita…” The corners of Cillian’s lips twitched up into a smile. “She’s a smart cookie. I think she saw the writing on the wall when I dropped everything to come here the first time, and she’s been waiting for me to get my act together ever since.”

“You’ll miss her,” I said, phrasing it as a statement rather than a question.

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